


Running Up That Hill

by jynx



Category: Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-26
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-22 15:45:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2513114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jynx/pseuds/jynx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony strikes a deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Running Up That Hill

**Author's Note:**

> Placebo's “Running Up That Hill” is a very, very dangerous song. Especially since I lost my job and was looking to inflict some agony on my favorite character ever~ Also, I blame Thor #11 for the idea that Steve is alive, somewhere cold and dark. And, for the record, this fic? I hate it. Completely fucking hate. It gave me so many issues! >

It's been a year since Steve was killed. A long, hard, cold year. Tony Stark never thought he would have made it as far as he had with Steve no longer in this world. Unfortunately, he couldn't make it any more. Between S.H.I.E.L.D. and every other organization that now demanded every ounce of his attention, he was buckling.

He wasn't the only thing that was buckling either. The nation, the world, was too. There was only so much Bucky could do as the new Captain America. He encouraged people, gave them hope in these dark times, but the damage was already done. He had already done the damage. In trying to save everyone, he had killed not only his best friend and lover, he had released the most dangerous demon of all of Pandora's creatures out of it's box:

_Hope._

They existed in a world without hope. None in superheroes, none in the government, none in the world around them. There was no hope anymore, and Tony could feel the blackness of the world's despair closing in around him, choking him, killing him.

He couldn't deal with it anymore. He had to do something, anything, to change the despair back to hope. As he walked down the path to Steve's memorial in the rain, he only hoped what he planned to do would work. There was no guarantee to this sort of this, but he had shown up once before, hopefully he would show up this time as well.

After all, Tony Stark had a deal to make, and it was too sweet a deal for even him to refuse.

~

The last thing Steve remembered was the all consuming pain of being shot at point-blank range in the gut, then nothing but overwhelming cold and darkness. That, however, was taking a very quick backseat to the shooting agony currently running through his entire body. One moment, he was in a world completely dark and cold that he could not get away from, and now he was lying on the floor, naked, and screaming in agony.

There were startled shouts, orders, and someone was wrapping a blanket around him as he clawed his way out of the haze of pain. Slowly, so very slowly, the agony receded and Steve was left numb from shock and cold, looking around wildly.

So cold. Why was he so cold?

“Cap? C'mon, Cap, let us know you can hear us. Steve? Please, c'mon, Steve, you're scaring us,” someone was saying, rubbing his cold skin.

“W-where am I?” he stuttered out, looking around desperately.

Faces crowded around him, making him feel claustrophobic. 

“At our hideout,” a voice said. Steve looked up and was a little relieved to see Sam staring back; he was the one who was talking. “Cap, Steve, what happened?”

Steve was still shivering and he pulled the blanket tighter. “I...I don't know,” he said, teeth chattering. “I... Last thing I remember was the courthouse.” The cold and the dark...they didn't matter, didn't count. He didn't remember them, they were still there, lurking in the background.

“That was over a year ago,” another voice said – Luke. It was Luke Cage. He was squatting down next to them, wrapping another blanket around him. “'bout eighteen months, now.”

“Please,” Doctor Strange said, appearing above all of them, “leave him be. Captain, I'm sure you have questions, but I believe we first need to find the origin of your miraculous return and then allow you to rest from your ordeal.”

Steve's head was swimming; eighteen months? What had happened in those eighteen months? All he could remember was it being cold and dark, so terribly cold and dark...

“Doc, maybe we should let him rest first?” Sam said with a frown. “Look at the guy, he's completely out of it!”

“Unfortunately, we must first find out how he returned to us,” Strange said firmly. “Captain, do I have your permission to look into your recent history?”

Steve gave a jerky nod; he didn't know what Strange was planning on, but the quicker he got it over with, the quicker he could get answers. The Sorcerer Supreme laid a cool hand against Steve's forehead and his hand began to glow pink. That was all Steve knew as his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out once more.

~

The next time he woke, he was in a bed with tons of blankets wrapped tight around him. Spider-Man, apparently on guard duty, was peering at him when he opened his eyes. With a tiny “meep,” he scooted back quickly, perching on the back of the chair next to his bed.

“Cap! You awake for real this time?” Spider-Man asked warily.

“Peter?” Steve asked, voice raspy. “What's going on?”

“You just appeared out of thin air, scaring the crap out of all of us!” Spider-Man said quickly. It was only through sheer force of will power that Steve made his mind actually catch and process all of what he said.

“Wait,” Steve said, struggling to sit up. “I just...appeared?”

“Yeah! Like the Ghost of Christmas Past or something!”

“What Spider-Man is trying to say,” Doctor Strange said, opening the door, “is that a force, outside our concept of time or power, brought you back and delivered you to us.”

“Jeez,” Clint said from the door with an amused grin, “you make it sound like he was a pizza or something.” He stepped forward and leaned down, grabbing Steve and hugging him tightly, “God, it's good to see you back!”

“It's, uh, good to be back?” Steve said haltingly. “Can someone just tell me what's going on? I'm not sure I understand.”

Clint straightened and eyed Spider-Man and Doctor Strange, “Right, I think I'm the one least likely to confuse you.”

“Hey!” Spider-Man protested.

Clint rolled his eyes and sat in the seat Spider-Man was perching on. “It's been about eighteen months since you've died. Pretty much, same thing's been going on as before. Government is hunting superheroes down and imprisoning any who try and fight back or disobey. Few things've changed: Kooning's dead, Stark is missing, Hill's in charge of S.H.I.E.L.D. again, President's out the door and a new one on his way in, every thing's crashing left and right. Basically, Cap, the world's gone to hell in a hand basket.”

Steve just stared at him, trying to take it all in. “Wait... what do you mean Tony's missing?”

Clint made a face, “Trust you to latch onto that piece of information. Stark's been missing for the past six months. According to the S.H.I.E.L.D. communications we've been listening in on, he went to pay his respects to you and then just vanished.”

Steve just looked at him, absolutely bewildered. “Why would S.H.I.E.L.D. care that Tony's gone missing? That's not their jurisdiction.”

“After you got killed,” Spider-Man said, having a hard time saying the last word, “They made Stark the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. Dugan and Hill were his seconds, and now that Stark's gone, Hill's back in charge.”

“Director...?” Steve buried his face in his hands. “And everything else is exactly the way it was before?”

“Exactly.”

“Except it's getting worse?”

“Except it's getting worse,” Clint confirmed.

~

_Steve woke slowly, warm and comfortable. Tony was in his arms, head on his chest, watching him with a sleepy contentment Steve rarely ever saw. Something about this, though, just didn't feel real; as soon as the thought crossed his mind, the contentment on Tony's face faded into a slightly anxious look._

_“Steve, please, don't think about it,” Tony said, moving so his hands were free, running them through Steve's hair._

_“What did you do?” Steve asked, a sense of dread filling him, moving his head away and grabbing Tony's hands._

_“What I had to,” Tony said simply, letting Steve roll them so that Tony was pinned under him, wrists still held tight._

_“Tony, what you think you have to do and what usually needs to be done are so very different,” Steve said sternly. “What did you do? Where have you been for the past six months? They told me you were missing...”_

_Tony looked away, head tilted as if he were listening to something._

_Steve sighed, tugging on his wrists, wanting an answer,“Tony. Don't come up with some ridiculous story, I want the truth.”_

_Tugging one wrist free, Tony traced Steve's face carefully, “I can tell you a little of the truth, but not all of it. It's against the rules.”_

_“Rules? What rules? What did you do?” Steve demanded, that previous feeling of dread becoming like lead in the bottom of his stomach._

_“I made a deal,” Tony said slowly, still stroking Steve's face. His eyes were intent, as if trying to memorize how he looked. “I asked to swap places. You weren't dead, Steve. Well, you were, but you didn't... it's complicated and I'm not sure I'm allowed to say. So, I made a deal. My life is yours, Steve. They did something so that this is your body now.” Tony's lips quirked slightly as he touched the skin over Steve's heart._

_There was an ugly scar there, one Steve had never gotten...one that Tony had._

_“There's nothing wrong with it, the body, I mean. They did hooky magic stuff, so you have the serum and everything is still you...minus the scar,” Tony continued, hand resting against the scar._

_“Tony, please don't tell me this--”_

_“I was dying, Steve,” Tony interrupted. “Maybe not literally, but if I was, I wouldn't have stopped it. I wouldn't leave the suit for weeks, I almost got thrown in the Negative Zone, things were falling apart. I tried to stop a war, but all I did was put another hole in the dam. I couldn't fix it, I was only making it worse. Listen to your Avengers, they know the state of the world. The world has no hope left, Steve.”_

_“Someone was going around with my shield,” Steve said harshly. “Any Captain America should--”_

_“Bucky hardly has any hope left for himself,” Tony said dismissively. “Neither he nor I would allow anyone else to carrying your shield. Or, well, what he thinks is your shield.”_

_“Wait, what?” Steve pulled back, staring at Tony. “Where's my shield?”_

_“With you,” Tony said. “We buried you with--” He tilted his head to the side and looked pained. “I have to go, Steve. Find Namor, he knows where the shield is.” He hesitated and then tugged Steve into a bittersweet kiss. “Please, fix what I couldn't. It needs to be fixed. Something bad is coming and you need to be ready for it. If you're not, it's all over.”_

_The world around them started to warp and fade, giving way to a swirling black and red world. Tony was the only one not fading right away; he just kept staring at Steve, who had grabbed his hand and wouldn't let go._

_“Steve, you have to let me go,” Tony whispered._

_“No,” Steve said, pulling Tony another couple of steps closer._

_“You don't know what you're doing,” Tony begged, trying to pull away._

_“I don't care what you did, Tony Stark, but if the world needs me, then they need you just as much.”_

_“No, they don't!” Tony said, frantic now._

_“Fine, I need you. I love you. How can you think--”_

_“Steve, we really can't go into this now,” Tony said with panic._

_“Well, we are,” Steve said, finally tugging so that Tony stumbled into his arms. “I'm not letting you go.”_

_Tony looked downright terrified, “Steve--”_

_The world pulsed once...twice...and then seemed to explode._

~

Steve woke, staring up at the ceiling. Sitting up in bed, he touched the scar over his heart. The scar was a shrapnel scar, one Steve had seen on Tony so many times before it was covered with scars from various operations to save his heart.

And now Steve had it. 

That dream...it seemed so real.

Cradling his head in his hands, Steve tried to process all the information. If that dream had been real, then he needed to find Bucky. The easiest way would be to see if Bucky had his shield or not. Standing and getting dressed in borrowed clothes, Steve started the creep out of the hideout.

“You thinking of going somewhere?” Clint asked, stepping out from the shadows.

“I need to find Bucky,” Steve said, determined.

“Sam said he was staying at your place. If we can't find him there, we'll try Natasha,” Clint smiled at him.

“We?”

“I'm hardly going to let you go do this without me,” Clint said, stubborn.

Steve hesitated and sighed, “How long have you been back?”

“Two years or so, now?” Clint said, squinting at the ceiling. “It doesn't matter. I know you, Steve. You look like you just went ten rounds with the bogeyman and lost.”

“I... I think I saw Tony. In a dream, but...not a dream,” Steve said, rubbing his forehead. “He said some things and to verify them, I need to see if Bucky has my shield.”

“What kind of dream?”

“The one that feels too real,” Steve said grimly. “C'mon, Clint. If you're gonna come with me, then keep up. Think you remember how to do that?”

Clint smirked at Steve, “Watch me, old man.”

~

Steve couldn't believe what he was actually doing at the moment. To think he was actually picking the lock to his own door... the entire situation disgusted him.

Clint grinned at him, “You're bad at this.”

Steve grunted, “Can it, loud mouth.”

Clint laughed softly and leaned against the wall, whistling off-tune.

Suddenly the door was yanked open, out of Steve's hands; Clint drew his sword and lunged forward, only to have the sword gripped, twisted, and yanked out of his hand.

“Who the hell are-- Steve?”

Steve stood and grinned, “Jim, it's good to see you.”

Bucky held Clint's sword tight in his cybernetic hand, looking very mulish, “Prove you're him.”

Steve gave him a lopsided smile, “You used to tease Toro non-stop about the crush he had on Torch.”

Bucky stared, “Steve?”

“Yeah, it's me,” Steve said with a real grin this time. Bucky came forward and pulled him into a tight embrace which Steve couldn't help but return. “God it's good to see you again.”

“You mean, when I'm not trying to kill you?” Bucky asked, bitter.

Steve grabbed him by the back of the neck and tugged him close, “Don't be an idiot, Bucky. That wasn't you. I forgave you a long time ago for all you did that you couldn't help. I'm proud of you, what you're doing.”

Bucky gave Steve a wry smile, “You think I'd let anyone else carry you're shield?”

Steve laughed softly, “No, no you wouldn't. Look, Buck, about my shield...are you sure it is mine?”

Bucky pulled back, frowning, “What are you talking about? Of course it's yours! Unless Stark pulled a fast one.”

“I think he did,” Steve said slowly. “Can I...?”

Bucky nodded hesitantly and handed the sword back to Clint. “Yeah, sure.”

Clint took the sword and sheathed it before following. “Stark wouldn't have made a copy.”

Steve smiled ironically, “Tony's done a lot of bad things, Clint. If the dream is real, then he did and I know where the real one is. If not, then I've gone crazy and we've got other problems.”

“Dream?” Bucky asked, handing the shield over to Steve with reluctance.

Steve ignored the question and took the shield and weighed it in his hand, testing it as only he knew how. “He's gotten better at making these,” he said with a small smile. “It's good, almost perfect. But it's not mine.” He handed it back to Bucky.

“Dream?” he asked again, taking the shield back.

“I guess it's not a dream anymore, more a vision,” Steve said with a relieved smile. “Tony told me that he buried me with my shield, so Namor would have it.”

Bucky made a face, “Tell Subby I say hi, will ya?”

Steve laughed and grinned at him, “I will. And Bucky? I'm proud of you. Don't stop, all right?”

Bucky gave him a cocky smile and a sketchy salute, “Whatever you say, Steve. But when you get back, I want a full explanation.”

Steve gave him a small smile, “If I can even explain, I will. I'm not sure I understand all of it.”

~

_“Tony?” Steve called. It was dark here, and cold, so much colder than before. There was, however, a huddled figure off to the side, a soft white glow outlining the figure._

_“Why couldn't you have left well enough alone?” came the muffled, miserable voice._

_“Tony?” Steve asked, stepping close to the huddled mass. He laid a hand on Tony's head, petting his hair._

_“What did you do?” Tony asked, looking up. Steve couldn't see anything but his eyes, the blue glowing against the blackness of the world at the moment._

_“I didn't do anything,” Steve said, tugging Tony up. “I'm trying to get you back. Please, just...let it work. I want you back, Tony. It's not right without you here.”_

_“You have Clint and Sam and Luke and Bucky and everyone else,” Tony protested. “You don't need me!”_

_“No, I don't need you, I want you,” Steve said, stubbornly._

_Tony tried to get free from Steve's grasp, “You could be ruining everything! I traded for you, we switched places! Don't you get that? You could die again, and everything will be my fault again! Please, Steve, just, leave it alone!”_

_Steve pulled Tony into a kiss, feeling him melt into the touch, “I'm not going to die, Tony. Besides, you said it yourself, you don't know if I'll be undoing everything. Just, let me try and save you. You're horrible at trying to save yourself.”_

_Tony rested against him, “You have no idea what you're up against.”_

_Steve kissed him softly, tenderly, “Then tell me.”_

_“I can't,” Tony whispered. “It's--”_

_“Against the rules,” Steve said with him. “I know. Just give me a chance to set this right.”_

_Tony reached up and wrapped his arms around Steve, “Go ahead, try and set things right. I exist now like you did, between. I...I don't know, Steve. Please, don't do anything that would result in you dying again. I don't think I could handle it again.”_

_Steve brought him close and kissed him again, slow and sensual, “I promise, I won't do anything to undo what you did for me.”_

~

He was standing in the middle of a circular room, pure white light pouring down on him. There was nothing but golden sunshine and hungry white pillars, soaking up the sun. Looking up, he was shocked to see the pillars were actually seats. 

And one was occupied.

“I should end our agreement right here, Tony Stark,” the Stranger said mildly, fingers idly tapping against the chair's arm rest. “There was to be no contact at between the two of you. He would be free to continue on with his life, as if he had never died. Instead, you violated our agreement, Tony Stark.”

“What did he do?” Tony asked, hugging himself. “I... I don't know what happened.”

“You created a tiny pocket in the world between where I stashed you,” the Stranger said, amusement coloring his voice. “The good Captain grabbed you and shattered your little pocket, sending him throttling back into his body, and you adrift in the Nether. Now, you have a choice, Tony Stark.”

“Choice?” he echoed tiredly. “I'm sick of choices.”

“All the same,” the Stranger chuckled, “this is a choice only you can make.”

“What is it?”

“I either save your soul, or destroy it.”

“That's it? No punishment for breaking the rules and nearly getting myself obliterated?” Tony asked, arms crossed, frowning. “What's the catch?”

The Stranger looked down at him, full of cool, untouchable amusement. “If I save you, I will remove your memory. You won't remember anything of your former life, Tony Stark.”

Tony went cold at that. Steve... “And if I don't agree, what, my eternal soul is destroyed?”

The Stranger smiled, “Something along those lines.”

~

He woke to coldness and darkness. 

He was on the ground, the very cold, very hard ground. Sometime in the night he had rolled off his cardboard bed and he lay on the dirt. He had, thankfully, just missed the recently made mud pit. Sitting up, he looked around the homeless encampment with a tired eye before crawling back into his cardboard box.

Unlike many of the people here, he didn't know who he was or where he came from. One night, some of the homeless had found him, naked, curled into a ball under one of the footbridges. They had taken pity on him and brought him into the encampment, clothed him, taught him what he needed to know, and then left him to his own devices.

Teach a man to fish and all that.

He didn't know who he was, where he was from, or what he should do with himself. He did, however, have dreams. Specifically, several dreams where an intense feeling of love and need, of eternal patience as he waited. The dreams came with images, sometimes, not just feelings. Blue eyes, blond hair, a smile that warmed him, no matter how cold it was outside, the feel of strong arms around him, holding him late into the night. 

He didn't know who it was, just that it was paramount to find him. However, to find him was a little harder than expected. There were thousands, if not millions, of blond haired, blue eyed New Yorkers. He could hardly just go up to every blue eyed, blond haired man and ask them to hold him and see if they were the one who was waiting for him. They'd probably think he was crazier than he actually was.

Leaning back against the back of the box, he tugged his tattered jacket close around him. It was getting cold, colder each night. Winter was coming, and with it came snow... As weak and thin as he was now, the first snow would probably kill him.

He only wished he knew who was waiting for him, and why... the why was the most important part.

~

Steve touched a hand to his shield, recently recovered from Namor and his previous tomb, and frowned. He had his shield back, was working alongside everyone to try and encourage hope once more, but something was missing. A sense of purpose, almost. 

Of course, it didn't really matter much if he had it if he couldn't figure out why he was supposed to have it. Tony had said something about finishing what he couldn't finish, that something bad was coming... And of course, as fate would have it, he couldn't figure out how to communicate with Tony now.

The “world” in his mind is dark and empty, and it pulses with emptiness and the feeling of impending destruction. He needed to find Tony, he couldn't say why, but there was an overwhelming sense of need filling him. He didn't know what would happen, but something, and something very, very bad would happen. 

Taking a deep breath, Steve sighed and pulled on a sweatshirt and jacket before heading out. He didn't know why, but something inside him said to head toward the homeless encampments on the northern side of the City. He wasn't used to this internal tugging feeling but, for all he knew, it was something related to Tony and whatever deal he had made.

Stopping outside a 7/11, Steve looked down the street, just thinking, staying out of the way of the constantly opening and closing doors.

Wait...

The word just drifted across his mind but it made Steve bristle and look around furiously for a moment before his attention was caught by someone staggering down the street.

Black hair, blue eyes, gaunt and looking like a concentration camp refugee; the man had a tattered jacket, full of holes and burn marks, pulled tight around him, pants that were barely protecting him from the elements, and a shirt stained with what looked suspiciously like blood.

“Oh god,” Steve whispered, stunned. “Tony...”

No wonder no one could find him before, if he was here, in one of the worst areas of the City. Not even during his bout with alcoholism had he gone this far... Tony, it had to be Tony, was looking around lost, confused, but a stubborn look crossed his face and he turned, starting to leave the area. Steve didn't even have to think before he was running to catch him, hand on his shoulder, spinning him around.

“Tony.”

Blue eyes widened and an open, curious look crossed his face, “You... you're real?” his voice was raspy and weak, and Steve could feel how thin the shoulder under his hand was.

“Yes, it's me, Tony.”

“I'm... Who?” he asked, frowning in confusion. “Who's Tony?”

Steve's heart clenched in his chest. “You are,” he said gently, mind racing for an explanation. “You're Tony Stark.”

Tony's eyes went distant, sliding half-way closed. “Steve...”

Steve smiled and waited, needing to wait, as much as he hated to. “That's right. I'm Steve.”

~

Everything came crashing back into his mind. Steve, the Avengers, the War, his armor, Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, the Mandarin, Steve dying, Thor, Steve standing over him and his shield poised to kill him, the video feeds from the courthouse, S.H.I.E.L.D., everything...

He stumbled forward, hands coming up to clutch at his head, crying out as his mind was flooded.

Mother, Jarvis, his father trotting him around the social circuit, Rumiko, the Avengers fighting together, Steve...kissing Steve, arching up under him as Steve moved inside him, fighting next to him, fighting with him, against him, play fighting, arguing over the most childish things...

_The Deal._

When his mind cleared, everything settling in its proper place, he looked up into Steve's eyes and just stared in wonder at him.

“How...?”

“Does it really matter?” Steve asked with a small smile. “We're both here, both alive.”

“No,” Tony whispered, reaching one dirtied hand up to hesitantly touch Steve's face. “You're...real. Alive.”

“Yeah, I am,” Steve said, the smile growing.


End file.
